


King Thranduil Has a Birthday

by MagicMarker



Series: Tolkien's Dirty December 2015 [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Thranduil is impossibly old, it IS rated T, poor Bard, well hints of these things anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5332520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMarker/pseuds/MagicMarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All right folks, here's day 1 of Tolkien's Dirty December.  I know this one's rated "T" but just let me say that we have a LOT of month ahead of us - I'm hardly gonna pull out the big guns right away.  So have a nice little Barduil teaser.  <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	King Thranduil Has a Birthday

Thranduil was ready for bed.  He had been ready for bed about an hour ago, but _someone_ was staying up working.  So, he had stayed up with him, choosing to read in a more comfortable, plush chair in the corner rather than the utilitarian chair and desk his partner was using across the room.

 

“Bard, put that down,” Thranduil purred, rising from his chair.  “You’ve been reading that treaty all night.  It won’t make any more sense tonight than it will tomorrow.”  

 

“Aye, in a minute,” Bard deflected with a wave of his hand.

 

Thranduil extinguished his lamp with a huffy sigh.  “When I said you were the rightful King of Dale and only you could do this job the way it needed to be done, I most certainly did not mean ‘at all hours of the night’ or ‘at expense of personal relationships.’  Come now.”  He crossed to lay his hands on Bard’s shoulders, whispering in his ear.  “Don’t make me go to bed alone on my birthday.”

 

Bard didn’t even raise his eyes from the paper.  “You don’t celebrate birthdays, Thranduil.  We’ve been together for two years.  I’m sure I would have noticed.”

 

“...Fair.  But today is a special one,” Thranduil placated.  “It’s my sixty-fifth century.”

 

The paper fluttered to the desktop as  Bard slowly turned in his chair.  “What.”

 

“My sixty-fifth century.  I am six thousand five hundred years old today, Bard.”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, as far as anyone can be sure to-the-day after six thousand five hundred years.”

 

_“What?!”_

 

Pleased at having the man’s full attention, Thranduil moved in front of him and took his hands.  Slowly, slowly, he stepped back and pulled a still-baffled Bard out of his chair and away from his desk.

 

“You can’t possibly be that old,” Bard protested weakly.  

 

“You know that I am, my darling,” Thranduil replied.  “And besides, that is not the point.  I want to go to bed.  With you.  Now.”  He reached over with one hand and turned down the lamp until the flame died, then led Bard out of the office and down towards the bedroom.  “Your children come back from Erebor tomorrow, and it is my birthday tonight if I say it is.  I’m the king.”  Despite the empty house, Thranduil shut the door behind them and pushed Bard toward the bed.  

 

“I’m… also… the King?”  Bard mumbled as he followed silent directions and lay down.  No lamps were lit in this room, the thin starlight casting everything in a strange blue hue.  Yet despite the lack of fire in the hearth, his cheeks were flushed.

 

Thranduil hummed, crawling onto the bed.  His silver hair shone even in this dim light, falling over his shoulder as he leaned over to press a kiss to Bard’s jaw.  “Yes, you are,” he murmured, and trailed his fingers down the open neck of Bard’s shirt, then all the way down his chest until he reached the laces of Bard’s trousers.  “I’m going to fuck the king tonight.”

 

Bard whimpered and surged up to kiss him roughly.  His stubble scratched against Thranduil’s much softer skin, callouses on his palms catching in the long, silky hair.  “Gods,” he whispered, canting his hips against the slight pressure Thranduil provided over his quickly growing erection.  “Sixty-five centuries though?!”

 

“All the better to please you with, my dear,” Thranduil answered, pulling Bard up to sitting.  “Take your shirt off.  I want to see you.”

 

In seconds the shirt was gone, tossed onto the floor to be forgotten.  Salt and pepper hair sprinkled his chest and all the way down his abdomen, the end of the trail hidden by the waistband of Bard’s pants.

 

“Good,” he cooed, and pulled the trousers open with one hand, revealing the dark, wiry thatch of curls.  He kissed him slowly, then, savoring the taste of his lips, relishing the slip of their tongues against each other.  Bard’s breaths came heavier now, his hands grasping at Thranduil’s robes, at his hair, at the bedclothes.  Thranduil broke away.  “I see someone needs a lesson in patience.”

 

“No! --er, I mean, no, why would you say that?” Bard took a deep breath and visibly relaxed against the bed.  “I’m fine.  Never better.”

 

“Do not lie to me,” Thranduil warned, placing one last kiss on Bard’s lips before he started to move.  He pressed his lips to Bard’s jaw, then to his neck, swiping his tongue along the pulse point before moving to the collarbone.  He moved all the way down Bard’s chest, to his abdomen, dropping kisses all the way until finally his mouth arrived where the laces of Bard’s trousers lay open.

 

“If it’s your birthday,” Bard shuddered, fists clenched in the sheets, “shouldn’t I be the one doing this, and you laying here a mess?”

 

“When it’s your birthday, Bard my love, you get to decide.  Until then--”

 

A strangled gasp was the only sound as Thranduil took what he wanted.

 

“Happy birthday to me.”  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/).


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